Control
by King Chips
Summary: ... There’s a reason why those useless grunts will cheer and do as I ask without a word but will ignore your simplest commands. Do you know why?” Saturn gulped and shook his head. “Control.” CYRUSxSATURN. Rated M for a reason, guys.


**- c o n t r o l -**

**a cyrus x saturn fic**

* * *

Cyrus was an amazing man.

He claimed, once, that he hated spirit. He said that it was incomplete, imperfect. And yet, the speeches he gave raised the spirit in the hundreds of Galactic grunts that packed into the auditorium, made them cheer and praise his vision. 'Brilliant,' they called him. 'A visionary.' And from the side, admiring how he could command with such authority and so few words, Saturn could only agree.

But Saturn knew Cyrus far better than the grunts. While they came and went, forgettable as they were useless, Saturn had been there from the beginning. He had listened with admiration when Cyrus told him of his ideals, had helped recruit the legions of underlings that would do their bidding (and had said smiled bitterly when Mars and Jupiter were promoted to the rank of commander, those ungrateful bitches). He had dumped half of his savings into this venture, had unquestioningly followed every direction he was given, had even bothered to learn the quieter man's quirks and subtle body language that told whether he was angry or pleased. Saturn knew Cyrus better than anyone.

So, it only made sense that when he returned from yet another failed mission and found the head of Team Galactic sitting in his dark office with a half-empty coffee on his desk, he immediately knew that he was going to be spared no mercy.

Cyrus _hated_ coffee.

Whether it was because he was so angered by whatever had occurred while the lieutenant commander was away or because he was deep in concentration with whatever work he was doing at the touch-screen table-computer that dominated the room, Cyrus hadn't heard Saturn enter his office, and for a moment, the younger man considered simply leaving and coming to report his failure when his boss was in a better mood. However, he knew it would only anger Cyrus more that he was trying to avoid punishment by delaying his report.

Saturn shifted his weight anxiously and bit his lip, stalling for only a beat more before speaking.

"Uh. Hey, Boss…"

Eyes the of color steel, cold and unforgiving, snapped up to meet his. "You've returned." His voice was monotone, but Saturn could still detect the brewing rage.

"Uh, yeah." He fidgeted under the other man's intense gaze. "Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. We, ah, ran into some trouble while we were getting the Spear Key. Some of the grunts thought it would be faster to just blast their way through the ruins in Solaceon, but that only angered the Unown inside." He forced himself to look away, his eyes going to focus on the wall behind his boss, as he sensed the other man's growing anger. "And, well, that only alerted the locals of what we were doing and, uh, we had to make a hasty retreat."

There was a silence during which Saturn suddenly became aware of the low hum of the machines that usually served as white noise in the Galactic HQ. He risked a glance back at Cyrus and found that he was no longer staring him down. Instead his eyes were closed, and in the dim glow from the glass screen that served as his desk, Saturn could see that the larger man's figure was slightly trembling (_with rage,_ his mind added quietly, and Saturn cursed himself for not leaving while he had the chance).

"Where is the Spear Key, now?"

The words came so suddenly that at first, Saturn wasn't sure that they had been spoken at all. But he knew the Galactic leader wouldn't ask again, so he quickly replied.

"Oh, uh. We have it, sir. I mean, it's in Galactic poses-"

"Do you have it with you?"

"Ah, no. You see, in the rush to get out off there, there was a collapse and a few of our men were trapped in the ruins. I would have left them there, but they have the key with them. I have a team working on their rescue as we speak, but we must wait for the coast to clear a little so we don't further risk the Team Galactic image, sir."

It was a fruitless attempt to reassure him; Cyrus was beyond infuriated. He turned away from his subordinate and was quiet once more before he spoke again, clearly attempting to restrain the anger creeping into his voice.

"Yes. The Team Galactic image. Currently, we are hailed throughout Sinnoh not as saviors, but as suspicious fiends to be watched. People are beginning to realize that our goal isn't to create a new source of energy. Why? How can they see this, when all of our commercials and advertisements preach otherwise? When we have taken every precaution to make sure they are never aware of our true intentions?

"Do you know what makes a team successful, Saturn?" There was a pause in which the younger man was unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, but before he could formulate a decent response, Cyrus answered for him. "Leadership. Would we not be where we are at this moment if it were not for extraordinary leadership?" He gestured to the building around them and turned to face Saturn once more.

"You are second-in-command not only because of the tremendous amount of help you have lent me in building this organization, but also because you have shown that you can lead a bunch of mindless underlings into doing things that they would otherwise object to. That is true for Mars and Jupiter as well. One would think that, with our combined guidance, we would be unstoppable. So why have we begun to fail?"

By now, Cyrus had walked around his desk and stood before the other man, who could only stare with what looked to be a thinly veiled mix of fear and awe, a horrible feeling of dread coiling in his stomach.

"You see, Saturn, there's a difference between a good leader and a great leader - a difference between you and I. There's a reason why those useless grunts will cheer and do as I ask without a word but will ignore your simplest commands. Do you know why?"

Saturn gulped and shook his head.

"Control."

And suddenly, his face was smacked into the glass surface of Cyrus' desk and the wind sucked out of his lungs. Cyrus loomed behind him, one large hand holding his wrists against his back while the other forced his neck down, effectively bending him over the desk.

"You're a good leader, but you do not assert control over your subordinates. Control and authority: these are the two most important qualities of a leader. It was my mistake for not recognizing your lack of skill in this area."

In the year or so that he had been working beside him, Saturn hadn't known Cyrus to be a particularly violent man. No, violence wasn't how he invoked terror as well as admiration in his followers. It was the fact that he could turn from seemingly reserved and quiet to irrational and almost crazed in a matter of seconds. One could see it during his speeches; he would start off so calm, and then slowly build up with the excitement of the crowd, voice raised and ranting until he abruptly stopped and took breath, composed once more.

Saturn had seen this just a once before outside of his speeches, when Cyrus had been unable to understand something about some new machine he was working on. Out of nowhere, he began to throw tools and parts around his workshop, cursing like a madman and oblivious to the other man's attempts to soothe him. And then, just as suddenly, he stopped. He apologized and quietly picked up his mess before sitting down to continue working.

It had been one of the most terrifying things Saturn had ever seen.

As he recalled that memory, he shivered, the same feeling of fear rolling through him. What would happen now? Even he, the man who thought he knew Cyrus the best, had no idea. It seemed just as likely that he would be killed as he would be freed.

He squirmed experimentally beneath his superior's hold, and Cyrus squeezed the back of his neck in response.

"Let us fix this problem, then. I want you to disobey me. Disregard everything I tell you as if you were one of those unruly lackeys and I will assert my control."

"W-what?" Saturn's brain reeled, trying to make sense of what he was being asked. He attempted to twist his head so that he could look back at his boss, but was thwarted as his face was pushed back down against the cool glass. "What are you going t- _Ah_!"

He yelped in surprise as he felt a hand grope his ass and then slowly move downward as he tried to shift away. "What the hell are you doing? Stop it!"

"No," came the simple, monotone reply. The hand squeezed before moving around his waist and fumble with the zipper on the front of his pants.

Saturn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And then another. And another. This wasn't right. This couldn't be happening. It was just… _impossible_. Never once had Cyrus shown any sexual interest in _anyone_ – man or woman. He was pretty sure that the only thing that the older man lusted over was power (and maybe his machines, but that was a road he didn't even want to begin travel). This just couldn't be happening. "This _isn't_ happening."

"It is," Cyrus insisted, and as if to prove it, he yanked the smaller man's pants down to his knees. Saturn shivered and felt Cyrus hook his thumb into the waistband of his underwear and tug lightly before pausing. "I can't teach you anything if you're so willing. You're not even trying." And then his underwear joined his pants down at his knees.

He heard Cyrus spit into his hand, and Saturn lifted up off the desk again, craning his neck to look behind him and see, just for a moment, that yes, his boss was indeed stroking himself. The man's expression was a frightening mix of amusement, arousal, and expectancy. It was only a glimpse, however, because that same hand then caught him by the neck and pushed him back down roughly.

"C-Cyrus… I mean, Boss. You can't… I get it now. Look, just let me go!"

There was a pause, and for a moment, Saturn was sure that this would be the end. This was just one of Cyrus' moments; now he was cooling down. He'd let Saturn go, apologize and they'd never talk about it again. And as he felt the slick hand at his neck release him, he was sure of it.

"Oh, tha-" He stopped at the sensation of _something_ pressing bluntly against his entrance, and began thrashing around in earnest. "No! Oh fu- Stop it!" His shoes scuffed noisily on the tile as he tried to find purchase, but the other man's weight pressing down on his back made it a wasted effort. Cyrus looped his free arm around Saturn's waist to hold him still, and he bit his lip, swollen from hitting the table, to muffle the strangled cry that came as he felt the burn of the older man entering him without any preparation and not nearly enough in the way of lubrication.

He didn't dare struggle, now; the movement was bound to only cause more pain. Nonetheless, Cyrus readjusted his grip on his waist, jostling him just enough to make him hiss. Then, the scream that the commander had been trying to hold back tore through his throat as the man above him quickly shoved himself in to the hilt.

Saturn only received a moment's reprieve before he felt the long, painful drag of Cyrus' cock being pulled back to the tip and then forced inside once more, making him grunt. The thrusts were slow and deep, but quickly built in speed until Saturn felt as though he could hardly breathe. Still, he somehow managed inhale enough to pant out a few more pleas to stop, but that only seemed to encourage the larger man.

Cyrus moved his hand down to encircle Saturn's cock, which, to his horror, was half-hard. How it escaped his notice that the organ had been filling with blood was beyond him, but he absolutely refused to think that it was possible that he was _aroused_ by any of this. That was just… Beyond impossible.

Cyrus seemed just as surprised as he squeezed Saturn's length, making a "tch" sound before he began to fist it in time with his thrusts. A moan escaped the smaller man's lips before he was even aware it was forming, and suddenly he felt more disgusted at himself than the man pounding him into the desk.

"You're enjoying this," Cyrus commented, straining to keep his usual monotone. Saturn didn't bother denying it, his groans already beginning to come out more pleased than pained. But he didn't – _wouldn't_ – admit it, either.

Instead, he panted back, "You are, too. Sick fu-_uck!_" He grimaced at a particularly hard thrust; he'd obviously hit a nerve in his superior.

"I told you not to. I," he stopped, muffled a groan between pressed lips, and then continued. "I am starting to doubt your skills, Saturn. Must I – nng, ah – make this easier for you?" He pulled back, both hands moving to grip his subordinate's hips hard enough that the younger man was sure they would bruise.

Saturn gasped at the sudden change of angle, but was grateful that his arms were now free. Though his shoulders and wrists were sore (and the latter, too, he was sure would bruise) from his earlier attempts at escape, he still used his forearms to prop himself up off the surface of the desk. His dominator made no move to stop him this time, his hand instead reaching around to continue stroking him in time to the brutal thrusts.

It took a moment for Saturn to realize that this change of positions meant that Cyrus was still expecting him to get away, and for a moment, he considered it. But what good would it do? Even if he somehow managed to get the larger man off of him, he'd still be left with a throbbing erection of his own to take care of, and like hell he was going to stumble down the halls to the nearest bathroom so he could have some privacy while he did so. And why did Cyrus want him to struggle so badly, anyway? Because that was the only way he could get off? What was even the point of this? He couldn't remember anymore.

Instead, he allowed his hips to buck with each stroke, causing Cyrus to bury himself deeper within the commander's tight walls.

"Nnng. A-ah," He gasped, allowing himself to enjoy the situation. "Just make me… Ahnnn. Make me… C-come _on_."

Though his own groans were becoming harder to contain, Cyrus didn't seemed pleased with Saturn's reaction. He stopped, removing his hand from the other man's cock and grabbing his throat, pulling him closer as he growled in his ear.

"I _told_ you," he snarled, words shaky, "to _disobey_ me."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Saturn snapped back, twisting in his grip. "I'm doing exactly what you said not to. Now just fucking… Damn, I'm so close…"

He moved to grab himself so he could just _finish this,_ but Cyrus swatted his hand away and squeezed him himself. Saturn moaned, and after two more pumps, pearly liquid spilled into his superior's hand. The larger man grunted at the clenching heat around him, fierce staccato thrusts making Saturn arch and cry out. Shuddering, he emptied inside Saturn with a low groan.

Saturn hissed as he felt the other man pull out, leaving behind both a throbbing ache and the feeling of a slick mixture of semen and blood trickling out of his entrance. The air was cool against his flesh as he tried to catch his breath, leaning on the desk for support, his body shivering. Behind him, he could hear the rustle of clothing as Cyrus tucked himself back into his pants.

There was an awkward moment in which neither of them talked or moved, and Saturn again became aware of the silent hum of all the machinery in the building that served as the only other noise besides their breathing. Then, as he struggled to straighten up without swaying, his knees threatening to buckle under him, Cyrus moved forward to stand behind him. He froze as the man who had just fucked him reached around and helped pull up his underwear and pants – an uncharacteristically kind gesture coming from the usually distant man. Saturn could only mumble a small 'thanks' and shift uncomfortably as he watched his boss walk back around his desk and sit down, focus going straight back to his work.

"After you clean yourself up," he began, the monotone of his voice so normal and not giving any hint of what just happened that it made Saturn finch, "I want you to get me that Spear Key."

"Uh…Yeah. Yes, sir."

"I expect that you will not fail me this time."

"O-of course not, sir."

"Good. That is all."

**end.**

* * *

You know what? This fandom needs more gay. Specifically, Cyrus x Saturn, but also Volkner x Flint (that shit's basically canon!), among others. And I don't mean shitty mediocre gay fics, but some nicely written smut. That is why I have released this beast into the fandom. Not the best in the world, but damn it, I don't see anyone else doing any better.

That being said... Damn, am I proud of myself. I haven't written anything other than school reports and half-hearted role play posts in years, and I've never written smut (much less _gay_ smut), so I'll say that I'm satisfied with my first try. And, I'll admit it now, I have such a fem!boner for Saturn. UNF. And hey, there's even a crappy, weak little plot thrown in! Amazing!

Other than that, critiques would be lovely. c: I know I ended up rushing towards the end and there's probably a lot of mistakes I didn't catch, so if you find anything, let me know! Or you could just write a generic review expressing your support or disgust for this fic/pairing. Just don't flame me in all caps like a ten-year-old because you don't like gay shit or think Saturn x Mars is true love or whatever. You'll just look stupid.

And, uh, yeah. Thanks.

**-- King Chippy**


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